


Snapshots of Time X

by hummerhouse



Series: Snapshots of Time [10]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Language, Multi, Turtlecest, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3629679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummerhouse/pseuds/hummerhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.<br/>Word Count: 3,200 OT4 TCest Drabble sets<br/>Rated: R<br/>Momentary glimpses of life, captured and placed into an album.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snapshots of Time X

** Crazy **

            “The bridge is closed!” Raph yelled, clutching at the dashboard as Don spun the wheel and sent the battle shell careening sideways, sliding several feet before it came to a stop.

            In front of them was the black SUV the foot tech ninjas had been driving.  Its doors were open and the Turtles could see their five targets running across the drawbridge’s maintenance walkway.

            Leo was out of the battle shell and chasing the ninjas before his three brothers even got their doors open.

            “Wait for us!” Mikey shouted, vaulting over the bridges crossing arms and racing to catch his oldest brother.

            The two more fleet footed brothers quickly outpaced Don and Raph who could just make out the foot ninjas as all but one of them stopped to face their pursuers.  The fifth ninja held the electronic device they’d just stolen from a government testing lab close to his chest as he tried to get away.

            Leo caught a bridge anchor wire and swung from it straight into all four of the remaining ninjas, one sword drawn.

            As Mikey plunged into the melee, Leo told him, “Go after the other one!  Don’t let him escape!”

            Mikey bolted past a ninja who tried to grab him and Leo slammed his fist into the man’s face.  The ninja lost his footing and fell against one of his clansmen, right as he swung a katana at Leo’s head.  The sharp blade missed Leo but bit into the metal cable, cutting it in two.

            The cable separated with a snap, the two sides whipping across the walkway.  One of the ends caught a ninja across the midriff and sliced him apart, sending his two halves plummeting into the river far below.

            Leo ducked as the other end lashed the air above his head.  Raph reached them just as the cable caught the top end of one ninjas bo staff and yanked the man over the edge of the bridge.

            The ninja yelled and swung out an arm, desperately clutching at something to save him.  His fingers tangled in Leo’s mask tails and pulled the Turtle leader backwards.

            Jerked off balance, Leo’s sword arm hit another cable and he dropped his katana.  Twisting to yank his mask from the falling ninjas grip, Leo’s head hit a concrete buttress and he was instantly knocked out.

            The Foot ninja’s weight and momentum pulled Leo over the side and he started to fall.

            Raph punched one of the remaining ninjas hard enough to knock him down and saw Leo plummet out of sight.  With a roar, Raph threw himself forward, one hand wrapping around a bridge cable as the rest of his body swung out into space.  His other hand swept down and caught Leo by his forearm.

            Seeing that his older brother was unconscious, Raph tried pulling Leo’s dangling form up but the dead weight was too much for him.  Looking up, Raph concentrated on attempting to pull them both back onto the bridge, but with the weight of both he and Leo’s body supported by one arm, Raph couldn’t get the necessary leverage.

            Raph could hear the sound of fighting above him and the harsh thuds and grunts from someone on the business end of a bo staff.  Within a few seconds the sounds ceased and then Don’s head peeked over the edge of the bridge.

            “Are you okay?” Don asked quickly.

            “I’m fine but Leo’s out cold.  I can’t swing him up and the two of us together are too heavy for me ta lift,” Raph said.

            A loud horn suddenly broke the silence, its warning call brash and strident.  The drawbridge shuddered and then the horn sounded again.

            “Let go, I’ll pull you up,” Don said, wrapping a hand around one of the remaining cables and the other around Raph’s wrist.

            “Wait for Mikey!” Raph shouted, his adrenaline pumping.

            “We haven’t got time, a ship is coming and the drawbridge is going up.  Just let go Raph!” Don yelled in return.

            “Ya’ ain’t strong enough to pull us both up,” Raph insisted.

            Don tightened his grip on the railing and leaned further over to look directly into Raph’s eyes.  “I’m strong enough if you believe in me,” he said firmly.

            Raph stared into his brother’s brown eyes and saw the iron determination that was a key element of Don’s personality.  It was like looking into the eyes of a badger; a fierce fighting animal without the ability to quit or back down.

            Heart pounding, Raph nodded.  His fingers opened and for a brief second he felt nothing, then Don’s hand on his arm squeezed so tightly Raph could feel his circulation being cut off.

            Twisting in Don’s grip, Raph wrapped his hand around Don’s iron wrist and held on, concentrating on hanging onto both Leo and Don.  He heard Don grunt and his eyes found Don’s face again.  His brother’s eyes were closed in concentration as he leaned backwards, his heels digging into the concrete edging.

            Slowly, Raph felt his body being lifted.  When Raph was a half foot higher, Don let go of the railing and clasped Raph’s arm with his other hand, sitting back on his haunches and using his powerful leg muscles to brace himself.

            First Raph’s head and then his upper body appeared over the edge of the bridge.  When he was waist high, Raph leaned forward between Donny’s legs and wriggled his torso so that he could slide upwards.

            Don rolled onto his side then, shifting one of his legs up so that he could dig his toes into concrete while pulling Raph forward.  As soon as the concrete edge was thigh level, Raph lifted his knee onto the bridge and lunged upwards.

            Sprawled on his carapace, Raph felt for the concrete lip with the toes of one foot and then bracing against it, rolled over enough to swing his other leg onto the bridge.  Head down and panting heavily, Raph’s other arm continued to dangle over the water, his unconscious older brother still tightly gripped.

            Don immediately released Raph’s arm and skittered forward, throwing himself onto one hip so that he could lean down to grab Leo’s arm.  With some of the dead weight off his arm, Raph turned onto his side, the soles of his feet against the concrete ledge, and helped Don pull Leo to safety.

            Raph sucked air into his lungs, chest heaving, and then turned his head to look at Don, who was on his knees next to Leo.

            “Damn Donatello, you are one fucking stubborn bastard,” Raph said without rancor.

            Don paused in his examination of Leo’s head wound to glance up.  “And you have an amazing vocabulary.”

            The bridge suddenly shuddered beneath them and the two brothers scrambled to their feet.  Pulling Leo upright, they each draped one of his arms across their shoulders and began to carry him down the walkway as the middle of the bridge separated and started to lift.

            Raph spared a look over his shoulder and saw Leo’s katana lying on the ground where it had been dropped.  Right on the separating line between the two sides of the bridge, it teetered on the edge as the gap widened.

            A loud whoop drew both Raph and Don’s eyes upwards in time to see Michelangelo leap skyward from the opposite side of the bridge.  Somersaulting in mid-air, their acrobatic youngest brother snatched up Leo’s katana before it could fall and then nimbly landed on his feet.

            Running down the walkway, Mikey raced towards his brothers, his grin wide.  When he reached them, he slid his older brother’s sword into its sheath and then darted around them to the battle shell, opening the side door so that they could get Leo inside.

            Nudging Mikey with his elbow, Raph asked no one in particular, “Is everybody in this family fuckin’ crazy?”

            “Yes we are,” Mikey answered gleefully.  “Let’s not change, okay?”

 

** Scars **

            Don opened his eyes, his senses slowly coming to life as he woke from a light doze.  For a second he felt disoriented before realizing he was in Mikey’s room.

            A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth and he took a deeply satisfied breath before turning his head to locate his brothers.  All of them were curled together in Mikey’s nest of mattresses, soundly sleeping.

            Donatello’s head was pocketed comfortably into Leo’s shoulder and at its current angle, Don’s line of sight gave him a close-up, unobstructed view of his oldest brother’s plastron.

            Seen from that particular perspective, the nicks, cuts, and scars that crisscrossed Leo’s skin and shell were much more noticeable.  In fact, the sight was both fascinating and intriguing.

            Propping himself up on one elbow, Don carefully scrutinized Leo’s upper body, noting the fine lines left by small cuts and the puffy or puckered skin where deeper slices had occurred.  Almost no part of Leo’s body was untouched, there was even a scar in the pit of one arm.

            The larger ones were extremely familiar to Don; most of those he’d stitched together himself.  There were a few that had been pulled together by one of the others during the heat of a battle and then of course the smaller injuries Leo had cared for without assistance.

            Don sighed softly; there were altogether too many scars on Leo’s body.  He glanced over at Raph and then back down at Leo; the scarring on Raph’s body rivaled that of their older brother, almost as if this was another area that they were competing in.

            Setting a finger lightly against one scar, Don traced the line, remembering how he had sewn it together while Leo and Raph shouted at one another.  Leo always refused to take anything for pain management and Don would have thought the stitching would hurt like crazy, except that his anger at their hot headed brother probably numbed Leo to anything else.

            Another scar drew Don’s attention, this one had cut diagonally across the collar bone.  It had been nasty and serious; deep enough to have nicked the bone itself and had required a great number of stitches.  Don remembered how frightened he’d been when he saw that injury; the cut was so close to major veins that Don could only believe that Leo had a guardian angel.

            Scars from skin being sliced open weren’t the only ones decorating Leo; he had plenty of scars left behind by punctures, bullets, a laser burn, and numerous reminders that crawling around in sewers or junk meant nasty cuts as well.

            Don touched a spot on Leo’s side, a ragged scar from when a pile of scrap metal Leo had been standing on shifted and threw the Turtle against the sharp end of broken car fender.  It was simple, everyday hazards that challenged the family’s ability to stay in one piece as much as anything else.

            Though Don hated to admit it, Leo’s scars attracted him as much as they scared him.  There was something extremely sexy about them; they were almost a badge of Leo’s masculinity, a proving ground of the ninja leader’s abilities.

            Leo stirred and then opened his eyes to see Don hovering above him.  His genius brother was looking down at Leo’s plastron, his hand splayed out across Leo’s chest as olive green fingers explored the distance between a grouping of scars.

            “I thought you were sleeping,” Leo whispered.

            Don glanced up and smiled.  “I was.  Well, more like drifting off actually.  I had one of those weird half dreams where you’re walking along and trip on something, and then feel like you’re really falling.”

            “And then jerk yourself awake before you hit the ground,” Leo said, finishing for him.

            “Exactly,” Don answered, keeping his voice low.  “I can never go right back to sleep after one of those.”

            “So you decided to spend your time exploring my scutes?” Leo asked.

            Don chuckled.  “No, your scars.  I never really paid attention to how many of them you have.  I guess being this close to you made me notice them more.”

            “Going on a trip down memory lane?  Or silently chastising me for my carelessness?” Leo asked lightly.

            “You’re never careless,” Don answered with a touch of humor.  “And you should know by now that I’m not going to keep my opinions to myself anyway.”

            Leo smiled in return.  “Yes I do.  Your opinions are quite often more painful that these injuries.”

            “Good.  That means I’m getting my point across,” Don countered.

            “Carrying a bladed weapon means close contact with other bladed weapons, Donny,” Leo said.

            Don nodded.  “I know.  You and Raph have weapons that bring you up close and personal with the bad guys.  Mikey’s nunchucks have more of a reach and he never stops moving during a fight anyway; both of which make it harder for him to be hit.  He still has battle scars; we all do.  That’s a fact of life.  Doesn’t mean I’m not scared by it.”

            Leo reached up and lightly stroked Don’s almost pristine plastron.  “Maybe we should have all stuck to fighting with the bo staff.  It’s reach gives you quite an advantage.  That and you are much better at fighting with it than any of us could ever hope to be.”

            “’Your weapon chooses you as much as you choose it’,” Don quoted Master Splinter.

            “Yes, I believe that,” Leo said.  “Accepting the weapon also means accepting all of the things that go along with its mastery, including the scars.  I think we’re all very drawn to your plastron because it reminds us of a time when we didn’t do battle with the outside world.”

            Don lifted his hands and looked at them, his mouth pursed slightly.  “My shell may still look smooth, but these don’t look so good.”

            Leo took hold of one of Don’s hands and examined it.  They were working hands; covered in scars and burns, discolored by chemicals, and rough with callouses.  Don’s hands told the story of hard labor using tools not quite right for the job, hours of picking through junk to find exactly what was needed, and the difficulty of hauling things that were much too heavy from one place to another.

            “Your hands tell the story of our lives,” Leo said as he brought Don’s calloused fingers to his lips and kissed each of them.

            “They are certainly a mess,” Don agreed, his eyes soft as they gazed into Leo’s.

            “No, they’re perfect,” Leo told him, “because I can always tell it’s you who is touching me.  That is something I never want to live without.”

 

** Supple **

            “Right hand, green,” Master Splinter called out, a smile stretching his mouth as he watched his sons reach for the designated circle on the mat.

            “Don’t fall over, Donny,” Mikey teased as he effortlessly twisted into a new position.

            Don’s expression was concentrated, his entire focus on maintaining his balance while both of his legs were spread at odd angles.

            “What’s the matter bro’, can’t talk and play at the same time?” Mikey asked in a lighthearted tone.

            Don would have glared at him except he was afraid to move his head for fear of tumbling over.  Instead he settled for saying, “Shut up.  I’m going to beat you this time.”

            “Ri~ght,” Mikey sang and then chuckled when he saw the back of Don’s neck redden.

            “Next time ya’ fuss at me for getting so riled at Mikey, please remember that he can even aggravate Don,” Raph told Leo, who was standing next to him.

            Leo had to smile.  Their youngest brother did have a remarkable talent for getting under someone’s skin.

            “I’m not sure April did us any favors by giving us this game of Twister,” Leo said.

            “Master Splinter’s happy,” Raph said.  “It got Mikey away from the television and moving around.  I guess that’s worth his kicking our shells at this game for about the fifth time in a row.”

            Leo and Raph were currently ‘out’, having either fallen over or touched some part of their bodies besides their hands and feet to the mat.  Don was still in the game, but only due to lucky spins and the kind of stubborn focus he got when trying to solve a problem.

            “Left foot, yellow,” Master Splinter announced, earning a groan from his purple banded son.

            Mikey quickly lifted his foot, spun one leg over the other, and set his foot on the nearest yellow circle.  The movement was fluid and appeared effortless, despite the fact that Mikey was now in an odd and uncomfortable looking position.

            Shifting to the new spot was more difficult for Don, who grunted as he just managed to lift his leg past his arm and place his foot on the required color.  Sweat was starting to bead his brow as he struggled to maintain his balance.

            “Very good, Donatello,” Master Splinter said encouragingly.

            “Holy shell,” Raph muttered, “that looks like it hurts.”

            “Turtles were not meant to bend that way,” Leo said in response.

            “Ya’ mean most turtles aren’t meant ta bend that way,” Raph said with a grin.  “Mikey just ain’t normal.  I don’t know how it is that he’s so much more flexible than the rest of us.”

            “That’s something we may never know the answer to,” Leo replied, his eyes glued to Mikey’s frame.

            “Left hand, blue,” Master Splinter announced.

            Once again, Mikey’s supple form curved into a new position without the slightest hesitation.  His smile widened as he watched Don struggle to lift his hand.

            “That’s it, just go slow, Donny,” Mikey taunted.  “You’ll get there eventually.”

            Don growled and then teetered dangerously as he lifted his hand and quickly tried to slap it back down on a blue circle.  The action was enough to throw off his already precarious balance and he tumbled over onto his side.

            Mikey chortled as his brother went down in a heap.  “Winner and still champion, Michelangelo!”

            “Ya’ know he’s always gonna win at this game, doncha?” Raph asked.  “Then he’s gonna turn insufferable and I’m gonna have ta give him a beat down.”

            Leo was still staring at Mikey, who had easily unfolded himself and stood up, offering Don a hand in the process.

            “Yes,” Leo hissed huskily, his eyes shining.  “Mikey will always win at this game.”

            Raph did a double take, noting the change in his older brother’s voice and the look in his eye.  A cocky smile etched his face as he said, “Keep thinking like that and ya’ ain’t gonna be in any shape ta hit that mat again.”

            Leo slowly pulled his eyes off Mikey and back to Raph.  “Mind reader,” he said laughingly.

            Raph snorted.  “That wasn’t even difficult.  Maybe we should haul that Twister mat up ta your room later and invite Mikey in for a private game.”

            “Mmm,” Leo murmured, his eyes again following Mikey.

            “Ya’ know, an adult version of Twister, with Mikey as the centerpiece,” Raph said, his voice lowering an octave as the concept took hold.

            “Let’s make sure that Donny joins us,” Leo said, enthusiastically embracing the idea.  “You know how we _all_ love the way Mikey can bend.”

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork by the amazing Sherenelle from DeviantArt and represents a compilation of scenes from different Snapshots drabble sets.  
> 


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